


U-Turn

by XScribe



Series: Off The Map [2]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Bi-Gender Character(s), Carter Verone indirectly, Difficult Decisions, Heavy Angst, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Touching, Other, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2173167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XScribe/pseuds/XScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU spin on the Fast and Furious series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	U-Turn

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR’S NOTES: So many things transpired that interfered in the writing of this part of the series, the worst of which was the tragedy that occurred Nov 30, 2013. Never forget. Once again, much love and heartfelt thanks to all my readers and to Siberianskys.

Saturday--July 22

If it wasn’t for the pain in his right arm and the smell of fresh coffee, Rome would have gladly gone on sleeping. Opening his eyes, he began to recall what the pain was about and where he was. After the crazy shit that had taken place over the last several days, the serious drugs the doctor at the ER had prescribed for Rome’s arm thankfully knocked him out.

“You’re awake,” O'Conner observed.

All right, it wasn’t all whack. Wasn’t too long ago there was nothing better in the world than waking up next to O'Conner. 'Til his goddamn career came to be more important than Rome, or so it seemed. That was why it’d been so easy to believe he’d not only been abandoned, but possibly even set up by his smart-ass ex.

Rome had reacted the only way left to him; he’d tried to wipe out every memory he ever had about O'Conner and start all over. 

Attempting to use his right arm to sit up, Rome was hindered by both the pain and the soft cast they’d put on him in the ER.

Setting the coffee cup on the footlocker, Brian caught Rome’s left hand and helped him sit up. Without asking, he held out a couple of pills, then the cup. 

Trying to focus, Rome drowsily downed the drugs with a sip of coffee. “Damn…” he muttered. “What time is it?”

“Twelve thirty-five.”

“That late?” That explained the noise of the gathering party outside on the dock.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re entitled to kick it for a while.”

“How’s yo’ head?” Rome looked up at the obvious bruising and black eye O'Conner sported. It had never been right for a face that pretty to ever be marred, even when he pissed Rome off.

“I already took something for it. I’ll fix you some breakfast.”

Without the soft cast, Rome’s arm kept reminding him it was messed up, while he showered. That only got worse when he dropped his towel and tried to pull on a pair of pants afterwards, in front of the closet. He didn’t think it was that apparent until Brian came to help.

“Better put your cast back on first,” he said.

The gesture reminded Rome of when he’d been the one helping O'Conner when he’d busted his arm. Only it had been his left, and he’d been a lot more fucked up.

“Here.” Brian pressed Rome back to the bed to ease the cast back in place. Then he left Rome to get into his jeans on his own.

At the counter, Brian finished the sandwich he’d been preparing. On his way to the bed, he glanced at the footlocker. “We gotta figure out what to do with all that, you know. We can’t keep it here.”

The sound of more voices, splashing, and laughter outside explained why. “You right…Too risky aroun’ here…” Rome gave up struggling to zip the loose denim with only one hand, and gladly sat back on the bed instead, taking the sandwich. Sliced chicken and jack on white with the crust, the way Rome liked it. O'Conner was as conscientious as ever.

“The sooner we get it outta here, the better,” Brian went on, clearing off the counter.

“We get to the bank soon as I done.”

“I’ve been thinking about this since last night; we can’t just walk in and open up savings accounts with this money.”

“No, I’m talkin’ ‘bout checkin’ accounts,” Rome corrected. “Whichever got the highest interest. Might as well make a little on top while we lookin’ aroun’.”

“It ain’t that simple, bro. We gotta be real careful what we do with it.”

“I plan to be.” Rome was slightly affronted. “I’m gonna test drive a whole lot a brand new cars befo’ I decide--”

“We can’t go out and buy new cars,” Brian admonished. “We get caught with that kind of cash and it’s gonna be our asses.”

“Who gonna catch us? Dis Miami, man. People prob’bly walk in all day long and put down big-ass bank rolls to buy brand new Ferraris an’ shit.”

“Look.” Coffee cup refilled, Brian drew up the Papasan chair and leaned forward in it. “I’ve been offered the chance to go back to the Force and I’m thinking it might be a good idea for now. We can save up more for the garage--”

“What chyou talkin’ about?” Rome snapped. “What chyou wanna go back to bein’ a pig fo’? You know how I always felt about that shit.”

Those big, damn beautiful, blue eyes studied Rome. “Yeah. I know you don’t get it, but I liked being a cop. It’s not just a job—it’s segura--you know? Benefits, pension—all that.”

“Hell, tha’s the only way they can bribe anybody to be a cop,” Rome scoffed. “Anyway, what that got to do wit’ the money?”

“They find out I got a load a cash like that and I’m busted. You run out and start spending money, it’s gonna look suspicious on me by association. I don’t want any of this to come under scrutiny by anybody. I don’t want any questions asked, you know?”

“Then fuck goin’ back to the department. Nobody gonna pay no attention to what two private citizens do wit’ they money.”

As usual, O'Conner was using his brains too much. He rubbed his chin. “I need some time to think. In the meantime, we gotta get the money some place safe. So I think we ought get safety deposit boxes. Whatever goes in a safety deposit box is private. You can open a checking account with two or three grand if you want, but any more than that, it’ll look suspicious. It’ll also make it easier for you to cash your paychecks when you start working, then you can start depositing--”

“Wait. What I gotta get a job fo’? I got all this money; what I wanna work fo’?”

“’Cos. That money should be for our future, not to live on. If we decide for sure we wanna start a business together, we need to hang onto that and more. No matter what, it’s still the smartest thing to do 'til we decide for sure.”

Why’d O'Conner always have to be so smart? Sometimes it was good, but a lot of times it was a pain in the ass. “Yeah? Well, I don’t got no ride right now; if I gotta go to work, I sho’ ain’t gonna ride no bus.”

“We got the Challenger, soon as it’s cleared from the investigation and the title comes back from Sacramento. It won’t take much work to get it street-ready again. Then, I got my Skyline at impound, which I’m planning to pick up today. She’ll need some work, too, but we definitely have wheels.”

Rome frowned, unwilling to give up the hope of buying himself a new car. “You mean you really do got a Nissan Skyline?”

~~~

It turned out that the cobalt blue on silver Skyline Tej and Jimmy had bragged on had been for real. According to Brian, the front end was busted up from an encounter with a parking meter, the left door had some puncture holes in it by one of those electronic crossbows—same as the pigs had done to the Evo--and the suspension needed work, both front and back. They spent the next five days resuscitating it. As Brian had said, Tej’s garage was off-the-hook stocked with equipment and parts. Plus the staff there and Tej’s homies were always eager to help out. It was real evident they all had a ton of respect for O'Conner and his Skyline.

On that fifth day, Brian and Rome were able to take the car out for a test drive and go apartment-hunting. It kicked some serious ass with its all-wheel drive. They had dinner, then got back to the dock by early evening. The garage was just shutting down, but there were lots of partiers hanging around.

Tej caught them on the way by. “Hey. Y’all in’erested in hittin’ the street tonight?”

“Nah,” Brian waved Tej off. “Skyline ain’t ready for that yet.”

“What chyall mean she ain' ready?” Tej countered. “She up to peak perfo’mance now. Most a the rest just cosmetics. Anyhow, way you drive, if you was on a skateboard you could beat all them punks. I heard who all out tonight and they got some bank. I say you load it up, Bullet, ‘cos the streets a hot.”

“Not tonight, man.” Brian shook his head.

On the walk to the houseboat, Rome spit. “What wrong wit’ chyou? You was the one bitchin’ on how we need money.”

“Don’t feel like it.” Brian was the first one on the deck.

“Since when you turn into my great-gran’ma?”

“I’m just too tired, man. You wanna take the Skyline and try dialin’ out with a busted wing, go ahead.” Switching on the TV, Brian headed for the bathroom. “’M gonna take a shower.”

Without cable or satellite, TV reception on the houseboat sucked. There wasn’t much anyone could watch with rabbit ears. Getting a soft drink from the dorm-size refrigerator, Rome thought about Tej again. He’d seen him look O'Conner up and down with too much interest. Look after his body and just about murmur, “Mm-mm.” With nothing between Rome and O'Conner at that point, he’d long been free do anything with anybody he wanted. That bothered the hell out of Rome, and the worst thing about it was he had no right to say shit.

Annoyed, Rome lay back on the bed and channel-surfed. By the time Brian came out of the bathroom, Rome had already covered the few local stations available by antenna.

A towel around his waist, Brian paused in front of the clean laundry basket to pull on one of his oversized T-shirts, as usual. That was just about all he owned on that tiny houseboat. Then he ducked back into the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

Rome was channel-surfing again when Brian joined him, wearing only the T-shirt, on the other side of the bed and leaned against the paneling.

“You know it’s barely after seven o’clock?” Rome questioned. “What chyou mean tired?” 

“Shit, I don’t know,” O'Conner mumbled. “I just am, all right?”

“So,” Rome asked after a few moments. “What up wit’ chyou and Tej, anyway?”

“Like what? He lets me stay here real cheap ‘cos I work in his garage. I thought that was obvious. He knows when there’s street action going on and hooks me up.”

“No, I mean how it looks like he got it on fo’ you. You an’ him got som'm goin’ on o’ what?”

Exhaling, Brian got under the sheet and turned away. “Out of principle, I’m gonna pretend you never said that. Let me sleep, all right?”

It wasn’t long before it started getting quiet outside. Everybody was probably packing up to go to see the street racing Parker had mentioned. That was just as well; worse than the lousy TV was the lack of privacy there. People were always milling around outside the houseboat. Any time, they might knock on the windows or jump down onto the rear deck and rap on the sliding glass door and nag on O'Conner to come out and party. Soon as it started getting dark, with lights on inside anybody could almost see in through the bamboo blinds. While that didn’t bother Rome, and Brian used to be indifferent about modesty as a kid, there were some aspects he’d come to change his mind about.

Waiting for the music and voices to all die off, Rome pretended to watch the dumb-ass reality show he’d left on. What he really looked at was his boy. Didn’t matter he was under the sheet; Rome knew how hot that body was.

Sliding down under the sheet next to Brian evoked no response. Careful to guard his right arm, Rome felt up Brian’s naked hip, beneath the shirt. 

Apparently falling asleep, Brian jerked and caught Rome’s hand. “What? Wait--”

“I done waitin’.” Rome brushed the sheet aside for a look at that tight, creamy-sweet naked ass.

Just as quick, Brian knocked Rome’s hand away and covered up again. “Let’s not do this right now, okay?”

“What’s ‘at mean?” Rome countered, ready to get hostile. “You don’ want me touchin’ you on account you wit’ somebody else now?”

“I mean I’m fucking tired,” O'Conner said into his pillow. “I told you.”

“Oh, yeah?” In the position Brian was in, Rome easily calculated it would give him a great shot at pussy. With a couple of fingers, he found the moist slit he was after.

“Hey!” Brian shot to the edge of the bed. “Leave me the fuck alone, all right? I’m too tired.”

“You know yo’ boy can take care a that.” Rome reached after him.

“No fucking way. At least go shower first.”

“A’ight.” Rome quickly passed over the remote control. “You watch you some TV in the meantime. Don’t fall asleep befo’ I get back. Get yourse’f a Coke or som’m.”

~~~

After all the years they’d been apart, the shower seemed to take forever. Especially with Rome’s damn arm reminding him how messed up it was every time he tried to use it. But, no matter how pissed he’d been at Brian, just seeing him was like being hit head-on by an 18-wheeler. That had only pissed Rome off worse. They’d taken care of that, though; resolved that shit and put aside their past mistakes. Rome had been resistant to let go of his lifestyle, but now that he pretty much had, he was beginning to see things differently; figure a lot of things out. The prize was and had always been O'Conner and Rome knew it. Only he’d taken him for granted. So having sex with his boy again was gonna be off the hook.

In just a towel, without the soft cast, Rome returned to the cabin.

Brian lay on the bed, still turned away. The difference was, his shoulder was bare, the T-shirt lying on the footlocker.

The only sounds any more were the quiet murmur from the TV, the surf, and the constant creak of the boat. The traffic noise from the nearby street was usually fairly faint on the marina, and especially at night when everything else was drowned out. That meant all the partiers were gone, so it was safe to turn on a lamp before Rome slid under the sheets, and right up behind Brian.

He didn’t move.

Taking the little waist, Rome nuzzled Brian’s ear and the topaz stud earring he’d got himself some time since they’d last seen each other. New as it was to Rome, he liked it. And he was reminded how damn much he missed the pleasure of burying his face in Brian’s curls.

That woke him. “Hey,” Brian murmured.

Rome felt around to the front with his left hand to the sleek six-pack abs, while he cradled the little ass in his lap. “Dis what I’m talkin’ about…”

“You’re crowding me and it’s too damn hot…”

Ignoring the protests, Rome continued to caress Brian’s belly. Moving in, he ran his mouth over his boy’s cheek. Seemed his beard used to be heavier, and should be more to it by that hour. “We both know why you really came back to Ba’stow…Couldn’t live wit’out chyo’ Romeo, could you?”

Pulling a little further to the edge of the bed, Brian drew his shoulder up to block Rome’s advances. He still sounded sleepy. “…You know, a week ago you were ready to beat the shit outta me…You’re that horny, there’s plenty of ass out on the dock…”

“Come on, baby…I already said I knowed I was the one to fuck up.” 

“…Huh,” Brian scoffed softly. “Like you never said that before…”

The whole Miami deal had put way too much on the line not to count for something. They’d played for everything, and if they’d lost, it could easily have not just meant their records, but their lives. Back in Barstow when they hung together, they’d taken plenty of dangerous risks. Learned to fight with their fists, knives, and guns; wrecked everything from skateboards to dirt bikes to cars; got chased by junkyard dogs and sirens and flashing lights. Miami had been a whole other league. Messing with an international drug lord so powerful even the goddamn US Feds couldn’t take down his ass. “I know…but, this time…This time I’m not just talkin’ about the time I done inside…If I’d a listened to you instead a bein’ stupid, you never would a left me…”

Judging by the sound of his breathing, O'Conner had fallen asleep again. He must have really been as tired as he said. There was nothing else to do but let him sleep.

~~~

Thursday--July 27

They stepped onto the deck to find Monica outside the sliding door. Whenever they came across her at the police station where they’d been called several times to give their statements on the case, Rome noticed she’d had to give up the Miami designer clothes. Since she’d gone back to being a regular old customs agent again, she was wearing downtown retail, like everybody else. Still, she wasn’t hiding her intentions in tight jeans over a sexy bathing suit, behind drugstore shades.

“Hey.” She fixed her tote on her shoulder, following them. “What’s been going on? I mean, you haven’t returned my calls.” She was addressing O'Conner, of course.

Before he could answer, Rome did, dismissively. 

“We been busy.”

“We’ve had a million things to do,” Brian clarified. “Fixing my Skyline, thanks to you guys, giving statements, filling out paperwork, looking for apartments…”

Rome interjected pointedly, “An’ we on our way to take care a more business.”

“Yeah, but everybody’s gotta take a day off.” She glanced out around the marina when they were up on the pier. “I was thinking about going swimming. As far as apartments, I can help you find a decent place. I know—I’ve looked around enough, myself.”

Brian didn’t answer, leaving Rome to handle the offer. “We don’t need no help.”

“No, really,” she persisted. “It’s not going to be easy, O'Conner—actually, for either of you. Essentially, you’re both starting over. At least let me give you guys a ride and we can talk about it.”

“No ahora,” Brian said. 

Raising her sunglasses to the top of her head, she sidled close to him as they walked to the garage. “Puedo conseguir un trabajo nuevo,” she went on.

What the fuck? Rome was getting pissed. They had no reason to speak Spanish. Unless they meant to deliberate exclude him from the conversation. “What chyou doin’ Brian?” Rome interrupted. “You don’t want me to know what chyou all talkin’ about?”

Putting on his own sunglasses, Brian paused and turned to Rome. The golden topaz earrings and Brian’s hair really sparkled in the sun. “No, nothing like that. I’m just thinking that Monica knows Miami much better than we do. She can steer us in the right direction, you know?”

“Why you gotta say that in Spanish?” Rome countered, suspiciously. “An’ I know what direction she goin’ in. Befo’ she get her hopes up, you betta’ tell her what all you got goin’ on a’ready.”

Behind the dark shades, Rome missed the reaction in Brian’s eyes, which was a shame. His mouth tugged into a straight line, then he addressed Fuentes again. “Disculpas por mi amigo grosero. Llámame más tarde.”

“Entiendo. Disculpa no es necesaria,” she replied. “Yo sabe tu amigo no mi gusto.”

~~~

“Befo’ we go no furtha’,” Rome said as he strapped himself into the Skyline, “just what we lookin’ fo’ in an apartment? Tell me straight out what gonna happen. Rent out here so high, it’d be crazy for both of us to do anything but get one place. Now, if you plannin’ to invite Suki, Parka’, or Miss Fuentes ove’ on a regula’ basis, I wanna know that, too.”

If anybody had the kind of nerve it would take to be that blunt, it was Rome. Brian glanced over and saw him putting on his mirrored, wrap-around shades. “First of all,” he began, keying the ignition, “if you’re proposing we live together as something more than roommates, it’d go over a lot better if you at least try and be romantic about it.” He didn’t bother to hide some amusement as he backed out of the garage bay.

That brought about the desired effect. Rome exhaled. “I tried bein’ romantic wit’ chyou las’ night, an’ you went to sleep. Befo’ we go look at apartments today, I wanna know right now how things gonna be.”

The Skyline’s transmission was still hesitating slightly, reminding Brian it needed more work. “Look, I don’t know…My head still hurts and with your busted arm, I’ve been doing most of the shit we’ve had to take care of. You can't blame me for being totaled at the end of the day.”

“You wan’ I should get romantic right now, while yo’ awake befo’ you gimme an answer? Pull ove’ at one a them fine joory sto’s aroun’ here an’ I show you romantic.”

Shaking his head, Brian laughed tiredly. “Don’t worry about it, man.”

“I’m gonna worry. You makin’ private talk wit’ Fuentes, you an’ Suki kissin’ on the mouth an’ she callin’ you ‘baby’, an’ you gettin’ way too many liberties from Parka’. What up wit’ all that? Why Suki call you ‘baby’? Eva’ time she say it, I wanna slap that little punk-girl face right offa’ head.”

In spite of everything, Rome could always make Brian laugh. “You’re making way too much out of everything. You oughta be grateful I was lucky enough to hook up with some people who’ve been cool enough to cut me a few breaks, you know? When I got to Miami, I had nothing—literally nothing more than this car, a couple of changes of clothes, and four hundred-and fifty-six dollars. Now, you know damn well how little that can buy. If it wasn’t for Tej and all them, I’d be livin’ in a cardboard box on the street.”

“A’ight, but what chyou pay Parka’ not to live on the street?”

“Tune-ups, valve jobs, wheel alignments, oil changes, fuel--”

“A’ight, a’ight. I get it. What about Suki? What goin’ on wit’ her?”

“Forget about it. It’s nothin’. Get the map out and find out what freeway to get on to get to those addresses.”

Balking, Rome took his time about getting the map from the glove box.

“I haven’t decided anything yet,” Brian allowed. “This is honestly the first chance I’ve had to slow down in—fuck--I don’t even know how long. I think it might have been May when I left LA, but I can't swear on it. I haven’t had a chance to think anything out.”

At length, Rome consulted the newspaper, as well. “You thought enough to come back to Ba’stow fo’ me. That’s plenny a thinkin’ right theh’.”

“Yeah, but…” Brian trailed. He’d never had to broach anything with Rome like what he was going to have to. He knew it was going to screw things up between them for a while, too. And tight as they were, Brian wasn’t sure that getting back into a relationship like they used to have wouldn’t be a mistake. “I’m not planning to invite anybody else to stay over. I didn’t know if you might want to, so I thought we should probably look at two-bedrooms, to leave you that option, you know?”

“You shoulda asked,” Rome said. “I’d a tol’ you.” A moment later, he looked toward Brian. “I been wonderin’…Why you keep goin’ aroun’ like this, misrepresentin’ yoursef? I understood why you did it fo’ the thing wit’ the Feds, but you don’t need to no mo’. Herm it up a little. Grow yo’ hair and quit cuttin’ off them pretty blond curls you know I like. Whyn’t you stop some place, get some makeup, at least, an’ put it on? Cova’ up that bruise; you know I neva’ liked seein’ you messed up.”

~~~

To please Rome, Brian had to stop at an upscale department store. It also armed Rome with visual aids for his argument to change Brian’s wardrobe.

One of Rome’s many talents was his power of persuasion. He’d been awesome at it as a kid and like any talent, it improved with age and practice. It was always impressive to see him use it, but for his own self-preservation, Brian had had to learn how to deal with it.

“You wanna get yourself some new threads,” Brian told him, “go right ahead. I don’t need anything.”

“You go aroun’ dressed like a traila’ park junkie an’ you don’ think you need new clothes?”

Brian laughed. “Hey, I paid good money for these jeans. They weren’t cheap.”

“Oh, yeah? Somewhe’ in Miami, I know they some guy in his boxa shorts, pushin’ aroun’ a shoppin’ cart full a cans. An’ them t-shirts; thrift sto’ have a ten-for-a-dolla’ sale?”

Chuckling, Brian started for the exit.

“Look,” Rome fell into step beside him. “I’ss bad enough you gonna be wearin’ a pig unifo’m again; body like that oughta be dressed nothin’ but fly all the time.”

It wasn’t as though Brian wasn’t well aware of Rome’s preference about his clothes. “I won't be wearing a uniform. Maybe through another probationary period, anyways. I’d already done several plain-clothes cases.”

“You had to dress decent then. What happened to them clothes?”

“Left ‘em in LA. Didn’t have time to pack.”

“What all were they?”

“For the most part, office clothes. Relaxed, but that kind of thing, you know. Depending on the case. Sports jackets--not blazers. Denim, so long as it was neat and not too distressed.”

Rome looked doubtful. “You chose ‘em?”

“Well, yeah,” Brian shrugged.

“Huh. I can imagine, an’ i’ss prob’bly fo’ the best they got left behind. You gonna have to buy new clothes, anyway, so, lus’ do it.”

At least Rome wasn’t complaining about Brian’s plans to resume his career. He halted, stepping out of the way of traffic. “All right,” he agreed, even though he knew that once again he’d given into Rome’s persuasion. “As long as it’s practical.”

~~~

They wasted hours at a local mall. Brian had never liked shopping, unless it was related to cars or hardware stores. His mom used to love to take him clothes shopping, ignoring his protests. Because she got such a thrill out of it, he finally learned to humor her and put up with it. But, he’d never enjoyed it. Rome, like Brian’s mom, liked shopping, too. The two got along at lots of stuff, and that was one of them. For Rome, whether it was to case what to steal later or to lay out cash, he enjoyed it. That was why letting him have immediate access to the money was such a bad idea. Both Rome and Brian’s mom were terrible spendthrifts and thus, Brian had learned to be more shrewd when it came to finances. 

Right off, Rome went for things that were too out there. Too loud and showed too much skin. It couldn’t be argued that it was miserably hot there in Miami and it was a heat he and Rome weren’t used to. Sweltering, sticky, jungle heat that didn’t give anybody the grace of drying off once in a while. Still, Brian insisted on tops and shorts that had were made up of enough fabric to be decent on the street. Rome never stopped pushing the dresses or skirts, either, but until he started choosing with a little more practicality and respectability, Brian wouldn’t take those suggestions seriously, either.

By 2:00 in the afternoon, Brian was starving. With the way Rome’s appetite had been, Brian had no trouble talking him in to trading clothes shopping for a food forage. Out in the food court of the mall, everything looked sickening to Brian, when it came right down to it. They ended up at a restaurant on the periphery of the mall lot. Rome had no complaints about that.

Once Brian was made-up with the help of the Skyline’s courtesy mirror, they finally spent the rest of the afternoon the way they were supposed to: checking out apartments. Every place was expensive. Brian was prepared for it, unlike Rome, who continued to freak out as he had the first time they went apartment-hunting. He’d never lived outside of Barstow, so it was an understandable shock to him. Brian had lived a few years in Los Angeles, and had been in Miami for maybe a month. So, he’d chosen suburbs outside of Miami to case apartments. Problem was, they were still out of the price range for a police officer’s salary. Unless Rome went back to the illegal lifestyle he used to live, there was no way they could afford any of the nicer places they’d looked at without drawing on the funds they’d locked up in a safety deposit box.

“All these fine cars aroun’,” Rome was saying on the drive back to Miami, “I could prob’bly make some serious money off a them.”

“Don’t even think about it, cuz,” Brian admonished.

“You don’ wan’ us to use any a that money we got, how else we gonna make that kinda rent eva’ month?”

“I already told you Parker can hook you up as a mechanic.”

“So? I ain't certified. I’ll be lucky to get half what I’m worth. An’ all you gonna make as a cop is barely middle income. Dis bullshit, man.”

“Yeah, well if you wanna steal cars and sell dope again, you may as well pack up and get your ass back to Barstow, like I told you before. I’ve been through this shit with you and I’m not going there again.”

Surprisingly, that seemed to chastise Rome, and he settled back into his seat to watch the spectacular Florida horizon out the window, in the waning sunset. “I don’t know what we gonna do then. Maybe we should think about gettin’ the fuck outta Miami and back to Califo’nia. Not Ba’stow, but maybe out tow’ds LA. You got by on yo’ cop’s salary out theh’.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. There’s a problem, though. I can't go back to anybody I knew out there for the short time I was street racing to try and hook you up with a job.”

“Why not?”

“’Cos.” Brian was reluctant to answer. “The story was all over the LA news. Everybody I knew out there had to have seen it. They all know now I was a cop.”

Rome seemed to be considering. Then looked up. “Dey know you was a cop. But you coo’ now. It be a’ight. So, you mean you was all famous like a rock sta’ and eva’thin’?”

“No, nothing like that,” Brian laughed.

“Too bad, ‘cos that would a been real sexy. My boy all ovah’ the TV. That’s whe’ you belong, pretty as you is.” Leaning over the console, Rome took Brian’s chin with his good hand. 

“I’m trying to drive here,” Brian continued to laugh, resisting enough to keep from weaving on the road.

Ignoring his protests, Rome licked his cheek. “Damn, you look good in that makeup. You been makin’ me hongry all day.” Rome licked him again. In frustration, he drew back in his seat. “Fuck! We so gotta get out off dat boat. I ain't lookin’ fo’ward to all the shit goin’ on out theh’. Lus’ get a room at a hotel tonight. Have room service...Way you look, I can't wait to see you in that sexy negligee I bought you…”

“What negligee? We didn’t buy--”

“I did, one time you was takin’ a piss.”

Brian gripped the wheel a little tighter. “I don’t know if we should blow the money, you know? We should just go back to the boat--”

“We go back theh’, you know what gonna happen. They come yank us up on outta theh’, invite us out fo’ barbecue, to party, an’ all that. We don’t get a minute alone. Then befo’ I know it, you gone back inside and crashed. Fuck that.”

That was exactly how almost every single evening went, since Brian had moved into the houseboat. It hadn’t taken more than a few days to realize it was a mistake, but by then it was too late; he’d already made an agreement with Tej for an hourly wage to work at the garage and a very low, flexible rent fee. “No, we really gotta get serious about saving money. We already blew some of it today. And we’re gonna need every penny to move to LA. So, let’s just suck it up 'til we move out.”

~~~

Friday—July 28

Out of the shower, Brian made coffee and brunch in above-the-knee shorts and an open, short-sleeved, white and turquoise print cotton shirt while Rome staggered sleepily into the bathroom to shower next. The late afternoon before, Brian and Rome had been cloaked in full painting gear, working on the Skyline, when Suki knocked excitedly on the garage door. She told them the Department had called about picking up the Challenger. It was always just before closing when those kind of calls were made. Though the Skyline was out of commission for another day of drying, Tej, Suki, or any of the mechanics were always ready to let Brian borrow their wheels. 

His cell phone went off . He picked it up from the charger on the counter. “Yeah.”

“Hey, cowboy.” It was Monica. “How are you?”

“What’s up?”

“Couple a things that should interest you. How would you like to be a Customs Agent?”

“What?” He blinked. “I-I don’t know. I never thought about it. Maybe sometime later in my career--”

“Uh-uh. Now. I talked to Markham, he put the word in, and they’re more than willing to get you into the next training course at the academy.”

“Wait.” Brian glanced at the accordion bathroom door. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No,” she laughed.

“Man, I don’t know…I gotta think…”

“What’s there to think about? It’s a great opportunity.”

He remembered something. “Yeah well, just ‘cos Markham said, that doesn’t fix everything. Some things went down on the last case that Bilkins put in the record and they might screw things up for me to ever get in at a federal level.”

“Really? Like what?”

“He got impatient and went in prematurely on a bust. I didn’t have enough evidence, so I tried to warn against it, but he ignored me, then they put me on the spot. When the bust didn’t pan out, Bilkins said his report was going to blame me because I’d failed to perform the duties expected of me in a ‘timely manner’ or some shit like that.”

“Wow. That isn’t what it sounded like when they asked me to recruit you. It was more like they were already prepared to accept you into the academy in the next session. All you had to do was sign up.”

Like the offer to return to the PD, Brian knew it would apply anywhere in the US. Monica might not be so happy about it once she learned he was planning to leave Miami, but that didn’t matter once the process was under way. “You must have misunderstood.”

“Tell you what: I’ll talk to the Customs recruiter myself, and make sure.”

“Yeah, but…Even if I did consider it and applied, I still have to attend the training program--whenever the next one starts—and all that’s gonna take months. I need a job now. I go back to the PD and I can get started immediately on the requalification process.”

“So go ahead and do that. It’ll only pad your resume for when it’s time to enroll with ICE.”

“If they’re really willing to accept me, when’s the next academy session begin?”

“In the fall.”

“What was the other thing? You said you had two things to tell me.”

“Oh, I got your solution for an apartment. Like I said, I know it’s tough to find an affordable place around here. So…How ‘bout if you move in with me?”

“Move in…?” He was glad she hadn’t made that offer in front of Rome. “Like roommates,” he stated.

She paused. “To start, if you want.”

Attractive as she was, the situation had changed and if she was suggesting that they be anything more than roommates, it was only fair to tell her that he was no longer available. On the other hand, once she learned that, she might abandon any effort to help him advance his career. “You’ve got two bedrooms, right?”

“What would I need with two bedrooms? Of course not.”

“Yeah, well Pearce and I both need an apartment, you know? We were already planning on getting a place together and we sure couldn’t afford to go it alone. If you had two bedrooms, maybe we could consider that, since each of us would only have to pay a third of the rent, which would make it even easier on all of us--”

“You mean, if I had a two-bedroom place, you’d move in?”

“What I meant was, splitting the rent three ways might make Miami livable, but you know--not--”

“So I’ll move. There’re some two-bedroom apartments available here where I live, right now. I couldn’t even think about paying the rent difference on my own, but with two roommates, that changes the playing field quite a bit.”

“What’re you talking about?” Brian had to laugh. “You and Rome don’t even get along. You said it yourself.”

“Well, maybe we all just oughta get to know each other better. In a casual atmosphere—not on a case. He and I really didn’t get to interact much together. What do you say you two come over and have dinner at my place tonight?”

“Man, you don’t know Rome.” Again, he looked to the folding door. “There’s no way I’ll be able to talk him into it any hurry. In the meantime, why don’t you find out for sure if I really have a chance of getting into the academy, while I talk to him about what you suggested?”

“Aww.” He could hear her pout. “But, I was so looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Later.” He snapped his phone shut and replaced it in the charger.

Sitting on the deck, near the foot of the bed, Brian was eating, using the footlocker for a table when he heard the folding door open. He started to put his plate down, but saw Rome go to serve himself some coffee, a towel around his hips. Damn, the rock hard, definition of muscle in his abdomen, back, and hips looked good enough to eat. The sight of him made Brian’s body react in every way it could. Pearce must have whiled away his time in prison working out. He’d also got a few more tats from the last time Brian had seen him. And that round, bubble ass…Even though Brian couldn’t get the events of last May out of his head to save his life, even though it tore at him inside every time he thought of Toretto, the sight of Rome sure presented a provocative distraction. Plus, they had history. 

It was a strange history in which sometimes Brian admired and loved the hell out of Rome like nobody else and others when he was far too much of a pain in the ass to put up with. A history in which they’d been through so much together. Right then, though, it really was the best remedy in the world for Brian and he knew it. To have a strong distraction. A distraction like Roman. What had happened last May was over and gone. It was a bad mistake Brian never should have let happen. It hurt like hell, and he fought almost every day to put it out of his mind. There was never any getting it back and he knew it. He thought he’d learned about making bad mistakes, but it seemed there was always a new one to make. Before he let Rome distract him too deeply, there was a question about his incarceration they had to discuss first.

Without the sling or the soft cast, Rome kept trying to use his right hand. Knowing it was only going to take longer to heal that way, Brian got up and brought the soft cast. “Here,” he urged. “Let’s get this on you. Then you can get dressed.”

While Brian fit the cast on and adjusted the Velcro straps, Rome sipped his coffee at the counter, watching. At length, he finally said, “Man, I can't live like this…”

“Go on, get dressed,” Brian said when he was done. “I’ve got your breakfast.”

“You lookin’ so damn fine…” Rome muttered. Stepping behind Brian, he nuzzled his shoulder and ran his good hand over his bare chest and abs.

The pressure of Rome’s searching touch reminded Brian how tender his breasts were. Ordinarily, that meant he’d have a period in a few days, but he’d been thinking that for a while. As of yet, his period hadn’t come. With the nonstop way his life had been racing, week after week, he never had time to really process the situation. Until the next time he leaned on anything, jumped, kicked, ran…His breasts just hurt on an ongoing basis, like they had when he hit puberty, but still, no period. “Um, you wanna hurry up and get ready to go pick up that Challenger or not?”

“Damn, boy, you got the finest body…An’ them legs. Whyn’t you shave them legs fo’ me?”

No, there was no way Brian was going to bring up any of Monica’s proposals with Pearce. It would read too much like Brian was pursuing her. Shaving his legs was a lot of maintenance hassle and he’d been enjoying not having shaved them in a long time. “Maybe later.”

When Rome finally settled on the bed, half-dressed, in sports pants and his sling, Brian served him, then got into the refrigerator for the milk. He brought the bottle to his side of the bed to drink. “So, what happened to your earrings?”

“Just haven’t had a chance to put any on. Wit’ my arm all messed up, now I really can't.”

“I can do that. You bring any with you?”

“In my shavin’ kit, yeah. What about you? You been wearin’ the same ones since I got he’.”

“I had to split town real quick, like I said--”

“You left the rest behind,” Rome intoned wryly. “I know. Soon as we get to that joory sto’, you know what I’m gonna buy you.”

That was Rome all over again, wanting to spend money on unnecessary things. “You know, I gotta ask…I mean, before we…You know, whatever you did while you were inside…Did you get treated? Tested?”

“What kind a question is that?” Rome demanded.

“No, I understand--”

“You think I don’t know how to take care a things like that?”

“I’m not saying that. You know, a person can get hepatitis and HIV-related shit without sex. All I’m asking is if you got tested.”

“I don’t got that shit.”

“Did you get tested?”

“I know I don’t got it.”

“I know you didn’t when you went in, but there are plenty of guys in there who probably did. If you even got anybody else’s blood on you--”

“Why you wanna talk about this ove’ breakfas’?”

“I thought we should talk about it before we leave Miami, and by my calculations, it won't be long.”

Rome went back to eating in silence.

“Rome--”

“Minute I saw Mom after I got out, what chyou think she made me do?”

His mom was one of the chief RNs at Barstow Community Hospital, where she’d been employed since Brian first came to know her. He relaxed.

“Since when you start drinkin’ milk again?”

Hesitating, Brian studied the jug. All he knew was that every time he went to the store lately, the milk on the refrigerator shelves looked too delicious to ignore. “I drink it every now and then,” he feigned defense.

“Not all that much. All of a sudden you drinkin’ it by the gallon.”

“Man, you’ve only been around a couple of weeks. How would you know what I’ve been drinkin’?”

Rome set his plate on the bed and reached for the jug. “Gimme some, at leas’.”

~~~

That evening, Brian was once more awakened by Rome’s overtures. He didn’t know what time it was. There wasn’t a single light on in the houseboat—not even the TV—but he could still hear music and voices outside on the dock.

Overly tired again, Brian just wanted to sleep. He couldn’t, though. First thing he thought about was Dom. God, the way he made love. Still half asleep, Brian immediately lapsed into memories of wrapping himself around that body, being crushed by those muscular legs, welcoming him deep inside. And looking into those warm, sexy eyes, the long, curly eyelashes, that soft, giving mouth both on his own and on his body…

Turning onto his back, he met Rome’s full lips. Without a doubt, the familiarity felt good, then got better and better as the kissing became increasingly passionate. The glint of the small, gold serpent hoops in his ears brought back a lot of great memories.

Sleepy as Brian was, he left it at that. He quit thinking, for fear of thinking of the wrong man. That gave him the chance to enjoy the passion. He went ahead and encouraged Rome into an embrace as they kissed.

It was easy to feel that he was naked beneath the sheet; his erection rubbed against Brian’s hip. Cock already responding, he gave up his t-shirt to Rome’s left-handed tugging.

From there, Rome pressed him back to get on top and mouth Brian’s chest and nipples. God, it felt good—too good. Like when he was premenstrual—maybe even better. Usually, Rome did that when Brian was noticeably swollen. And yeah, he knew his chest had been swollen. Maybe he was putting on weight. Oh, fuck, who cared what that meant? Rome’s whole-hearted, enthusiastic tit-sucking felt so damn good, nothing else mattered.

By the time Rome drove in place, despite the initial discomfort, Brian was throbbing so bad, he was past worrying about contraception. All he knew was that he was desperate to feel Rome inside him again. They’d take care of precautions the next day.

Even though Rome could only use his left arm to brace himself to pump, Brian was quick to compensate by locking his legs around Rome and gladly took over making the friction between them. 

~~~

Saturday—July 29

After breakfast, when Rome started to pull on one of the pair of impromptu shorts he’d made of his pants to get back to work on the Challenger, Brian stopped him. “We’re going to the store today, you know.”

“What sto’?”

“A drug store. Whichever. To get some protection. You know.”

“You already on som'm. We don’t need nothin’ else.” Unconcerned, Rome continued to dress.

“I’m not on anything.” It was both surprising and somewhat of an insult that Rome would make such an assumption. “I never said I was on anything. Why the fuck would I be on something?”

Calmly and carefully, Rome drew a clean, buttoned, sleeveless shirt on over his injured right arm. “Why you askin’ me?”

“Exactly.” Brian moved to fit the shirt on Rome’s shoulders, then fasten some of the buttons.

It was a moment or two before Rome spoke again. “I already guessed it was Parka’.”

“And I already said I’m not on anything, so what does that tell you?”

“I wasn’t criticizin’. Tej’s a’ight, you know? I might actually like him if he’d a kept his hands off a you.”

Impatiently, Brian stepped back before he’d finished buttoning the shirt. “If he and I had something going on, don’t you think you and I wouldn’t have to go get some kind of protection right now?”

“That’s why I don’t see no reason to go.”

“Now I know you’re messin’ with me.” Brian went back to fixing Rome’s shirt.

“The way yo’ titties stick out, I know you on pills. Unless you on pills, you barely got pecs, let alone tits.”

Brian froze. Wearing one of the tanks Rome had talked him into buying, he didn’t want to look down. Rome had noticed, all right. Leaving Rome’s chest showing between the shirt edges, just below his pecs, Brian swallowed and straightened the shirt for an excuse not to answer. He scoffed. “Hey, I got pecs.”

Rome scoffed back. “Like hell. You call them pecs?”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t treat me like I don’ know what I’m talkin’ about.”

Going to the closet, Brian rummaged for a presentable pair of pants for Rome. “Why would I insist on getting something if I were on pills?”

“I thought you was just gettin’ yo’ period, but you been like this since I got he’.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Brian had to struggle really hard to maintain his cool in front of Rome. “Sometimes--sometimes hormonal changes just happen, you know?” Returning, he loosened Rome’s cut-offs.

“I known you since we was kids. And I heard only the pill and pregnancy do that to yo’ type.”

Brian dropped the shorts to enjoy the view of Rome’s naked genitals. “There’s no such thing as an absolute rule. Everybody’s different, you know.”

Looking down Brian’s shirt, Rome brightened. “You mean you could get boobs again? I like the sound a that.”

“I don’t know,” Brian allowed. “For now anyway, ‘til things get settled enough for me to go see a doctor, let’s get to the store.”

~~~

Sunday—July 30

Sundays, when the garage was closed, they could get a lot more done. Brian could concentrate solely on the Skyline and then the Challenger, and not have to make time for Tej’s customers’ cars, too. Though Tej had been pretty generous about letting Brian get the Skyline street-ready again, in good conscience, he couldn’t take advantage.

They’d have to wait for a new door and several other parts, but in the meantime, they did maintenance work for the cross-country drive to California.

Taking a break from the partying on the dock for a while, Parker wandered over to the open bays in back, and helped some. “Say, why ya’ll puttin’ on new hoses, anyway? These still good from las’ time we checked couple a weeks ago.”

“Don’t worry, I’m paying for them,” Brian assured him.

“I ain’t worried, I’m just wonderin’.”

Rome explained, “I’ss a long way out to Califo’nia, bruh.”

“Califo’nia?” Parker asked. “You goin’ back home, then.”

“We both is,” Rome said.

“What? Wait. Since when? You neva’ said nothin’ about goin’ back to Califo’nia, Bullet.”

“I wasn’t planning to go back,” Brian said, finally yanking one end of the hose free. “Last week while we were looking at apartments, we decided it was the best thing to do.”

“What chy’all talkin’ ‘bout?” Parker countered. “This Miami, man. The paradise eva’body dreams about. You know, people would cut off they sac fo’ the chance to live he’.”

“Til’ they find out how much the rent is,” Rome pointed out. “That why so many full-feme ho’s out he’?”

“Look, man,” Tej argued, “the one thing you and Bullet here neva’ gotta worry about is makin’ money. Wit’ chyo’ skills, they’s a’ways a way to make buck.”

“Don’t encourage him, man,” Brian half-kidded. “I’m getting my job back as a cop, and I’d hate to have to bust him some time.”

“Not gonna happen, Bri,” Rome said seriously.

Tej didn’t seem to be listening. “Ya’ll crazy o’ what? I can get you the green. Ain't I done that fo’ you, O'Conna’? An’ you—Pearce. I know three guys, jus’ off the top a my head, lookin’ for a mechanic. I ask around, I can find a lot mo’. An’ they got deep pockets, too. What chy’all wanna be a cop again, fo’?”

Expecting Rome to join the argument now that he had backup, Brian waited. Surprisingly, it didn’t come. “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like it.”

“But,” Tej continued, “street racin’ you like, an’ you know you can make real green that way. You can make like six months’ rent in one night.”

“Yeah, I do.” Brian straightened to swap out the wrench socket. “Lemme have the five-eighths,” he said to Rome. He was ready with it.

Confused, Tej went on. “Man, I don’t get chyou. I don’t know nothin’ about cops, but I know street racers, and that’s what I see in you. I know you get the buzz, O'Conna’. Firs’ day I seen you race. You get what i’ss all about. How can you wanna go back to bein’ a cop, now you been to the otha’ side?”

“Bein’ a cop isn’t all that different,” Brian allowed, leaning back in to get at the second clamp. “You’d be surprised.”

“I don’t see no resemblance,” Tej muttered. “If i’ss about risk, least you get paid what i’ss wo’th by racin’—not no tired-ass forty grand a yea’.”

“It’s about a lot more than that, bro’” Brian said. Having known Parker only a couple of months in which time Brian had revealed very little about himself, he felt no need to explain his actions. He knew Parker wouldn’t be in any hurry to lose the extra financial income his new mechanic provided.

Apparently realizing he wasn’t going to get any appeal from Brian, Parker turned to Rome. “Yo’ his homie. Whyn’t you talk some sense into him?”

It was a moment before Rome replied. “You right. You don’t know nothin’ about cops. Mo’ ‘an that, you don’t know nothin’ about O'Conna. He’s a’ways been damn smart. He knows what he doin’.”

Sweat dripping in his eyelashes, Brian shut his eyes a moment. God, did he wish that was true.

~~~

Thursday—August 3

Thursday morning, it started raining. Only three weeks in town, the beginning of August, and it was raining. It’d slow down their wait for the paint to dry on the Challenger, but there was nothing they could do about it. Parker wasn’t gonna be too happy, since it was tying up the space in his one-bay, covered garage. Since he’d learned O'Conner would be leaving for California, he hadn’t been all that happy, anyway. That had made Rome even more suspicious about Parker’s interest in Brian. Then Rome found out that every time Brian raced and won, he gave Parker a fifteen percent cut of the winnings for setting it up.

Despite the rain and the open bays, Tej’s employees worked anyway. Now that both cars were done, Rome willingly hung around to help out best as he could with his messed up arm. He didn’t care that he wasn’t gonna be paid, since it was a lot more interesting than sitting around the houseboat on his own ‘til the partiers started showing up.

Around noon when they finally did, the storm was getting worse. Parker, who kept a shortwave and weather radio in his office, said it was the tropical storm they’d been hearing about over the week, coming in. He went out to the dock soon after and the partiers started leaving. That was real weird.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Rome asked, looking after them as they piled back into their rides.

“Parker’s got a thing about lightning,” Brian explained, hooking the scope back up to the car he was working on. “He’s a little OTT about it, but actually it’s for good reason in this neck of the woods. This ain't Barstow.”

“TV says i’ss jus’ a tropical storm, not a hurricane.”

“Yeah, well, apparently the tropical storms here in Florida are in a league of their own outside anything we’ve ever seen.”

The “thing” Parker had became evident pretty quick. With the first rumble of thunder, he raced to the bays and told everybody to shut down and go home right then. Then he came straight over to O'Conner. “I just heard som'm on the news.”

Less alarmed than the other employees, Brian was taking his time about quitting work. “Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “The storm.”

“Not that. That dude y’all took down--Carte’ Verone? You know he was bein’ held without bail. Now they sayin’ he excaped.”

While Rome traded a look with Brian, Parker became more agitated and promptly cut off the diagnostic computer. “What the fuck I tell you ‘bout this befo’, O'Conna? Shut off all ‘lectrical equipment!”

“Yeah, but I was--”

“I don’t give a shit. Tu’n it the fuck off. Get them tools inside. Then you comin’ home wit’ me.” He started packing up before either of them could react.

“Wait,” Brian said, glancing at Rome, then back to Parker, “What about Rome? He’s coming, too, isn’t he? It’s just as dangerous for him to stay on the houseboat as it is for me.”

The light rain was getting heavy quick. “What?” Parker said. “I ain't got like a hotel, ya’ know.”

“Why? How many other people are gonna be there?” Brian joined Rome in collecting the tools from the fenders and the engine compartment. 

When Parker just eyed O'Conner impatiently and didn’t say anything, Brian went on.

“’Cos, you know, I don’t want to put you out or nothing. I’m sure we’ll be all right here.”

Another flash of light really made Parker trip. “Oh, hell-the-fuck no! Ain’t nobody stayin’ he’ in this shit!” Generally, he was pretty anal about keeping order in the carts and roll-aways, but all of a sudden, he was throwing things in himself. “Ya’ll run and pack an ove’night; I get this inside.”

~~~

Sunday—August 6

The storm was over, but the asphalt remained damp from the humidity, throwing dull reflections in the dark when Monica drove up to the curb at Tej’s garage that evening. She hadn’t heard a word from O'Conner, despite the messages she’d left on his voicemail, so it was time she paid him another visit.

The glow from the lights on the dock, the loud music pulsing in the heavy night air, and the multitude of tricked-out cars parked all over places that were even marginally legally made it evident that yet another party was going on after hours behind the garage. Jesus, didn’t these people ever take a day off?

Forced to park on the street, Monica was cutting her engine and grabbing her shoulder bag when more partiers slid their car to the curb, after hers. Not that there was room between her bumper and a driveway, but it was their problem if they wanted a ticket.

After locking her car, she started for the garage lot, only vaguely aware of opening and shutting car doors behind her, beneath the blanket of music drifting from the dock. 

She hadn’t gone twenty feet before she was seized from a rear approach on both sides. Instantly, the barrel of a gun thrust into her ribs on the right.

“Miss Fuentes.” A quiet male voice with a slight Cuban accent addressed her. “Mr. Verone asked that you and I become acquainted. If you’ll just step this way…”

She was forced back to the sidewalk. In the streetlights, she could see that her two assailants were dressed in shorts and shirtsleeves. As they wore no masks or cover, she could see that they appeared in their late 30s to early 40s. The one who’d spoken had a goatee. The vehicle that had parked behind hers was a dark Yukon.

Though she carried her SIG, there was no way she could get it out of her shoulder bag at the moment. “Look,” she began, “I--”

The silencer poked her harder to cut her off and a crushing hand gripped her upper arm to press her into the back seat without the benefit of the dome lights.

When the doors all shut and the driver keyed the ignition, she bucked, instinctively. “What the hell’s going on? I know for a fact Carter Verone’s in custody.”

“Mr. Verone sends his regards,” her companion went on. “He says he’s very sorry he can’t be here to talk to you himself at the moment. But, he does want you know that this is about your relationship with him and that he warned you what would happen if you ever touched anyone else.”

All of her critical situation training flooded to the forefront. “I want to talk to Carter! Take me to see him. He’s got it all wrong. I haven’t been with anybody!”

“Miss Fuentes.” Her companion was patient. “You think we don’t know you’ve been making a lot of phone calls to someone? Mr. Verone knows exactly who you’ve been seeing. He didn’t like it the first time you touched this man and yet you didn’t listen. You can’t honestly think Mr. Verone isn’t well aware that you’ve since been having an intimate relationship with him.”

“I-I--” Monica stammered, unable to think of a response that wouldn’t be incriminating, yet would be credible by Verone’s standards. “Take me to Carter! Let me talk to him!”

~~~

Tuesday—August 8

On the second day that the 1997 white Chrysler Sebring still sat at the curb, untouched, instead of heading toward the bays to start work that morning, Brian sauntered toward the car.

They’d already discussed the fact that it was the same make, model, year, and color as Monica’s, so Rome had to know immediately why Brian started off in that direction, and followed.

“Man, they must be ten thousand a those around,” Rome argued. “Ain't no way that’s Fuentes’.”

“I didn’t say it was,” Brian agreed. “But, if it’s been abandoned, it’s gotta be reported, you know.” At the vehicle, he read the license plate again and saw an official parking lot tag on the lower left corner of the windshield. Before mentioning that, he peered into the car through the legally tinted side window.

“Then let the Miami PD find it,” Rome said. “They drive by he’ often enough.”

“Even if it’s not hers,” Brian admitted, “it belongs to a federal agent.” He took out his cell phone.

Rome was quick to protest. “How you know that?”

Brian pointed out the sticker.

“So? Why you all gotta call it in? We don’t want no pigs pokin’ around, aksin’ questions.”

“They’ll ask a lot more questions if we don’t call it in.”

~~~

Wednesday—August 9

Once again awakened by the need to pee in the middle of the night, Brian sleepily made his way to the head. With the skylight open, the light coming in from the dock lit the space just enough for him to see what he was doing through a yawn, without waking him further. He started when he thought he heard a couple of quiet thumps in the cabin. Beneath the customary sound of ocean surf and the creak of the houseboat, he wasn’t certain. Nearing the open doorway, he hastily pulled on the short, silk and cotton kimono hanging on the hook that Rome had bought him, and listened; soft footsteps approached.

Shit. He looked around the small compartment for a weapon. He grabbed the crescent wrench he had to use regularly on the faulty plumbing. Then waited. A dark-dressed Y-type appeared in the doorway, gun first. Brian struck the intruder’s hand hard, knocking the firearm from his hold. Raising the wrench, Brian slammed the prowler on the head. He fell back, while Brian pounced on the gun.

“Drop it,” a masc voice commanded, before Brian could finish straightening upright.

“All right,” Brian assured him. “I’m cool.” He made to drop the gun, then fired.

At that close range, it was impossible not to hit his target. The guy staggered into his partner who was still recovering from the blow to his head. “Son-of-a-bitch,” the second gunman spit, raising his weapon at Brian. 

Aiming at his attacker’s arm, Brian shot him again.

“Brian!” He heard Rome cry from the cabin.

Knocking the injured assailants out of the way, Brian fled into the cabin, weapon ready. It was darker in there, but by the limited light entering through the burlap and bamboo shade that covered the glass, he found yet another prowler on board. One who’d yanked Rome from the bed, naked, and held a gun pressed to his head.

“Put it down,” the guy panted, “or I’ll kill him.”

The sight of anyone threatening his partner like that compounded Brian’s fury. “The hell you will! Let him go, now!”

“Bry!” Rome yelled again. “Look out!”

“No pegarle un tiro!” Rome’s captor shouted at his associates.

That gave Brian the moment he needed to slam a round into his friend’s captor, and resulted in his spontaneous release. Instantly, Rome fought to get the gun. The other two came at Brian and he turned his weapon on them. 

The victor, Pearce too, aimed to kill, in spite of his injured right arm. “Now, get the fuck outta he’!”

The intruders scrambled out the jimmied glass door.

Rising, Brian went to make sure they left the pier, from behind the bamboo shade.

“What the fuck was that about?” Pearce wanted to know. “You don’t think this got to do with Verone gettin’ outta jail, do you?”

“Yeah, I think it does.” When it was safe, Brian went to Rome. It wasn’t possible to assess for wound damage in the dark cabin. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. They hurt chyou?”

“No, I’m cool.”

“They got Fuentes, didn’t they?”

“It wasn’t by coincidence that her car was left just across the street.” Brian pressed Rome toward the bed.

Rome hesitated. “You think she dead?”

Not far down the marina, they heard the engine of a motorboat start up.

Brian bolted to the ladder that led to the top deck.

“Brian!” Rome yelled. “Brian, get back he’!”

On the upper deck, Brian saw a small cabin cruiser several hundred feet away, starting out to sea. As it was out of shooting range, he headed back down to the cabin.

At the bottom step, Rome was waiting. “Tell me you ain't jonesin’ so bad fo’ that bitch you wanna go afta’ them.”

“No, man. It’s you I’m worried about.” Brian stopped at the bottom rung. “When I saw that guy holding a gun on you like that, it scared the shit out of me. I don’t know what Verone’s got in mind, but there’s no way I’m gonna let him get anywhere near you.” Again, he steered Rome to the bed, then turned on the reading lamp to look him over.

“Ain't no question what he got in mind,” Rome muttered.

“Yeah, there is.” Brian gently tugged the gun from Rome’s left hand and put it down with the one he held. “Apparently, those guys had instructions not to kill us.”

“What?”

“I guess they didn’t know I know Spanish.”

~~~

Saturday – August 12

They really didn’t have all that much to pack. Once the cars were ready for the long haul, they left Miami. 

Apparently, Monica hadn’t been seen by anyone since Sunday, the day before her Sebring had first been found outside Tej’s. Nor did she go in to work over the course of the week that the ICE agents showed up daily to question every possible witness and look for evidence. Brian and Rome had both agreed to tell no one about the break-in at the houseboat. Their best strategy was to get the hell out of the area as soon as possible.

Because she’d apparently been misinforming her friends that she was a having hot romance with Brian, he initially became the prime suspect in her disappearance. Fortunately, with all the regulars who hung out at the dock, he and Rome got ruled out pretty quick for any involvement. They’d both been seen on the dock shortly before 8:30 pm and were then witnessed as slipping into the houseboat together, for the night. Not a single partier had seen either Rome or Brian exit the houseboat after that, which was exactly right. Any more, they’d spend the evenings alone together until they fell asleep. After they started doing that regularly, the partiers came to realize they’d become a couple, and left them alone whenever they both slipped off to the houseboat. As long as all the lights were out on board, Brian had since chilled out about inadvertent voyeurs.

Having been absolved of any wrongdoing and determined to avoid the situation, Brian wasn’t about to suggest that the ICE authorities consider Verone as a suspect. It didn’t take them long to start checking into that possibility, anyway, and they quit harassing the regulars at the dock. That didn’t give Brian much relief, though. He knew Verone was damn good at what he did, including how to cover his ass and leave no traces. 

Only three weeks had passed since Rome’s injury, and he’d been instructed to wear the cast and sling for four weeks, then go back for a recheck. He didn’t care, though; he was intent on managing a stick in his soft cast. It wasn’t as though Brian could argue; when he’d busted his elbow way worse than Rome, he’d tried to use it way before he’d been told to, as well. 

Telling no one else the proposed route, Brian and Rome had mapped out the trip. Only Tej, Suki, and Jimmy knew they were going to California. After the break-in, Brian asked them to keep it to themselves, although he didn’t explain why, despite their questions. Knowing too much could get them into trouble. 

Then Brian and Rome emptied the safety deposit box and hid the money in the trunks of both cars, each keeping a reasonable amount on hand for the trip. Both were armed with cell phones and walkie-talkies to keep in touch, should they lose each other, want to stop, or require assistance, all of which were bound to happen on a cross-continental trip.

When they left, no one was particularly pleased. Tej was pissed and made Brian promise to keep in touch and come out and visit again. His staff wasn’t too crazy about Brian and Rome’s departure, either. Suki cried, making Brian feel worse, then she kissed him hard on the mouth and whispered, “I want you so bad,” before they left. Even though Rome couldn’t have heard her, he bristled.

North of Tampa, traveling on highway 19, Brian finally felt confident that they weren’t being followed. Only then was he able to relax. And think. Too much. Rather than waste the walkie-talkie batteries trying to distract himself by talking to Rome, Brian turned on his stereo. That only worked for so long. In no time, he was thinking again. Thinking about the mild impositions on his ordinarily great health that had been going on lately. The fatigue was the worst of it. The occasional waves of nausea, though intense, were so brief and rare they that he’d forget all about them as soon as they were gone. The uncharacteristic often need to pee. Along with that, he’d been noticing a vague heaviness deep down in his pelvis that never went away. Nothing to even think to complain about, but it was there.

Then there were his periods. His never-occurring periods. It had been way too long. Not one while he’d been living in Miami. The truth was, he hadn’t had one since before he’d left California. Along with his overly-sensitive tits that had been growing more prominent with every passing day, it seemed, and his belly. It was growing, too.

There was no lying to himself any more. Yeah, he was gaining weight. He was fucking pregnant.

He slammed his fist against the steering wheel and locked his jaw.

The glare of the sun, despite his dark glasses, made his head hurt. Maybe it was from the injury to his brow, even though the bruise was almost completely gone. More likely, it was a stress headache. The next time they stopped for gas, he’d take some ibuprofen. No, wait. The only thing expectant moms were supposed to take was acetaminophen. He didn’t have any. He’d have to make sure there was a mini-mart where they stopped. He could tell Rome he had a headache, but he’d have to lie and say he didn’t have any more medication for it. At which point Rome would probably offer up his Tylenol with codeine, but Brian wasn’t about to take no more fucking codeine, so he’d have to—

Fuck. He was pregnant.

What the fuck was he gonna do? From ground zero, everything was gonna be totaled. Since surrendering the keys to that beautiful little orange ’95 Supra, Brian had been doing nothing but fighting fucking hard to forget Toretto. At best, he’d managed to keep his mouth shut about it, no matter how bad it hurt. Toretto hadn’t just been a case, he’d been an incomparable, earth-shattering experience. Strong, powerful, always in control--despite the shit Tanner thought he knew--sagely savvy and massively charismatic with a drop-dead, fucking amazing body. Pearce would have really liked and respected Toretto, under different circumstances. Instead, Brian had been desperately struggling to pretend all this time that one of the single-most thrilling events of his life had never transpired. Because it was the only thing he could do.

As it turned out, he was never going to be able to do that. Not for the rest of his life. Instead, he was going to have a kid that was going to remind him of Toretto and all the mistakes associated with that incident for the rest of his life. It was more than he could take right then.

Goddamn it, but when his mom had warned him about sex, she hadn’t even hit the tip of the iceberg about the shit that could happen.

And Pearce--the very second he found out, he was gonna be gone. After Brian had about killed himself—literally--trying to restore both friendship and faith in Rome. The very real possibility that they could have died trying to pull that job for the Feds wasn’t lost on Brian; it truly was a do or die situation, and Rome could have understandably just as well turned the deal down based on that very principle. If it had come down to that, at least Brian wouldn’t die alone, but with the one person he trusted most in the world. Evidently, Pearce had felt the same way. 

Then there was the offer awaiting Brian at Immigration and Customs. But, that wasn’t gonna fly for a knocked-up recruit. Not ‘til after the baby. He couldn’t sit around for months without income. He’d have to go back to the Department. They’d hire him because he’d worked for the Department before, but he’d have to take a desk job for a while. No health benefits until after probation, so he’d have to pay for the prenatal care himself. He’d have to use that money he’d meant to put into the business--a prospect that would be gone, too, along with Pearce. He was the kind of guy who’d never put up with his boyfriend being knocked up by somebody else. He’d given Brian unbelievable hell over having a bigger set of tools all while they were growing up, like he could help that. Then it’d been harder than shit to get his forgiveness over going to jail for three years, because he’d felt Brian hadn’t had his back. This was an offense light years beyond that, and another one Brian couldn’t claim innocence on, either.

~~~

Thursday--August 17

In New Orleans, Rome insisted they check into one of the finer hotels and stay for at least a couple of days. New Orleans was one of those off-the-hook places everybody wanted to visit one day but didn’t honestly have much hope of ever doing. Rome hadn’t really expected he’d ever fly in a plane either, but he got that chance when the FBI paid for his trip to Florida. Even better, he now had the cash to make that trip to New Orleans an unforgettable one.

All of which was on account of O'Conner. Ever since they’d hooked up back in the second grade, Rome’s life had been one hell of a wild, crazy ride—both good and bad. But, for all the shit that happened, the good always made up for it and more.

First thing he wanted to do after they found a hotel was to check out the city. The minute they drove into town he could already feel the atmosphere buzzing all around them. It was different from anywhere he’d ever been. It made him want to buy O'Conner that pair of promised super-expensive earrings, and take him to dinner someplace extra romantic. To do that, they’d need something appropriate to wear. Semi-formal stuff, like. Rome could buy a silk designer suit, and Brian, a slinky cocktail dress that would show him off.

~~~

“No.” Brian balked on the sidewalk. “I can't let you.”

“We make it back,” Rome urged, tugging Brian towards the door. He looked goddamn good in the thin knit, ice-blue-colored, cropped blouse and tight-fitting jeans Rome had picked out, golden topazes sparkling whenever the wind softly swept his curls from his ears. The blouse revealed his lean, lithe body, swollen breasts and puffy tits, and the boot-cut pants those fine, long, to-die-for legs, sweet ass, and big-ass bulge. “We do some street racin’, and make it back, easy.”

“We could lose it just the same, and we’d be out even more.”

“Bry--”

“That’s not the only reason.” Pulling from Rome, Brian took off down the sidewalk.

Throwing his hands up, Rome went after him. As a general rule, herms were as stable as any guy. Every now and then--some more than others—they’d act like femes and lose it. The good thing was, they always got it back. As for O'Conner, he was one of those herms who seldom ever did that kind of shit unless he was really whack from feme hormones. Even when he did, nine times out of ten he could be reasoned with.

To do that, Rome had to catch up and fall in stride with him. That wasn’t always easy, with them long legs Brian had on him, unless he was doing his swagger. Which seemed more exaggerated than ever any more.

“Listen, baby,” Rome said when he caught up. “What’s wrong we dress up nice to go to dinna’?”

Brian didn’t say nothing, he just sniffed. Like he was crying. That alarmed the hell out of Rome. It must have been one of those “seldom” times. Having had so little experience dealing with him that way put Rome at a serious disadvantage whenever it did happen. Pretty as he was, he’d always been tough. Since they were kids. “What’s wrong?”

Sniffing louder, Brian stepped to the curb and looked up and down the street, avoiding Rome’s gaze. “I-I’m pregnant.”

~~~

The very first time Rome learned Brian was gonna have a baby, it felt like nothing short of a 12-point earthquake. And any Californian could just imagine what the hell that would feel like. With everything that was going down at the time, something weird had happened and Rome had turned numb and forgotten a lot of the events. His mom later told him the shrinks at the detention center called it amnesia—something Rome had never thought was for real. Not until then, anyway. Then he thought he was probably forcing himself not to think about it, except Brian was going through the same thing. The shrinks also said Rome may or may not ever remember all of it; unfortunately, he eventually did.

When it did start coming back to him, he’d see it in bursts, like a music video, only it was going on around him, all over again. There was too much about it he wished he never remembered.

The shock he went through when he’d learned about it was bad enough. In what seemed like added punishment to the time he ended up doing in juvie, miles away in San Bernardino, he hadn’t been able to see Brian again for weeks. The judge had gone a lot easier on O'Conner, after what he’d already been through and Rome didn’t begrudge that. If anything, he was thankful. He’d always shuddered to think what could have happened to O'Conner if he’d had to go to juvie and Rome wouldn’t have been anywhere around to help. Through hardly any of it. He remembered rocking in his bed, knowing Brian was alone, thinking God, if only Rome could have just been there with him when the worst happened, maybe he could have done something to prevent it. The two of them together had always been real good at figuring their way through shit. But Rome hadn’t been there, and as a consequence, there was no getting over that one night for the rest of their lives.

The shock this time was just as intense, only different. The icy terror he’d felt the first time was replaced with a defensive rage. It was like the wind got kicked out of him. All the messed-up, ugly memories came flooding back, only worse. ‘Cos this time it was about somebody else’s baby.

Right then, Rome wanted to jump Brian and whup the shit out of him like never before. There’d be no holding back on account he was herm and even less on account he was knocked up.

Still, being in lockup those three years had taught him it was a dumb-ass thing to fight in the yard where he’d get busted before he could do the real damage he aimed to, and there on the crowded street, it’d be the same thing. He’d just had his police record cleared and he didn’t want to fuck that up already. He didn’t want to look at O'Conner no more. And the things Rome wanted to say to him couldn’t and shouldn’t be said out there on a public street where children and grandmas were walking around, so he walked away. Maybe he’d just keep walking. All the way back to the hotel, where he’d get in the Challenger and drive away, far away. He had the keys and he had money. That was all he needed. Not no goddamn backstabbing, bitch-ass, ho’ like O'Conner turned out to be.

“Rome. Rome!”

He ignored Brian.

“Rome!” Brian suddenly caught up. His voice was quiet, but urgent. “I get it, man, but at least hear me out.”

“Goddamn, lying, son-of-a-bitch, fucking asshole,” Rome muttered.

“Let’s not do this here. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Don’t get me started, Brian, ‘cos I won’t stop.”

“I know what you’re thinking, but at least hear me out, then you can do what you want.”

“I don’t give a fuck about hearin’ you out.” Rome snatched his shades from the front of his shirt and put them on. “Don’t need to know no mo’. I’m done wit’ chyou.” 

“Like you haven’t been with anybody else since we broke up.”

“Was neva’ my idea to break up.”

Brian was already shaking his head. “Don’t even pretend to play self-righteous with--”

“Yeah, but, I ain't the one who brung someone else’s kid along, did I? You knew. You knew you was knocked up and you pretended like you didn’t know why you look like that.” Spotting a taxi, Rome started out to the street to flag it down.

There was a short hesitation, then Brian called after him. “Where you goin’?” 

“Where you think?”

“Come on. Car’s right there. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Ain't goin’ nowhere wit’ chyou.”

The taxi stopped and Rome strode over to open the door. At the last second, O'Conner stepped in the way and blocked him. “If anybody’s leavin’, it’s gonna be me. You wanted to hang in New Orleans--you stay. Stay as long as you want. I’ll go back to the hotel and check out.”

“That’s a’ight by me.”

Though Brian paused, he didn’t say another word. He let go of the door and headed back for the sidewalk.

“Shit,” Rome mumbled out loud that time. Goddamn O'Conner. He was about the only goddamn person in the world who could get to Rome like that.

Slamming the taxi door shut, Rome waved the driver off.

At the Skyline, Rome waited on the street while Brian unlocked the doors. Once they were buckled in, Rome turned the stereo on, volume cranked. That should make it clear there was nothing more to be said.

He’d barely settled on some tunes when Brian switched it off.

“Hey!” Rome protested. “I was listenin’--”

“I’m never gonna see him again,” Brian said.

“That what you do nowadays?” Rome shot back. “You a ho’ now?”

When Brian didn’t answer, Rome had to glance to him to read his expression. Brian was frowning behind his own shades, but the twist of his mouth wasn’t from insult or anger; he was goddamn upset. Like the punk ho’ had any right to be.

Rome looked out his window. One thing he could never stand was to see O'Conner cry. “Maybe next time you think good an’ hard about who all you git involved wit’.”

“It wasn’t like you think. Not at all. You know me, Rome.”

“When I knew you, you wasn’t no ho’.”

“I haven’t changed. You know I wouldn’t get involved with a suspect…but, I…I screwed up.”

All of a sudden it made sense why O'Conner had been so closed-mouthed about the case that had totaled his career. Why Markham had given him such attitude about it. “Now I take back all that stuff I said to Parka’; you way dumba than I thought.”

Probably because he couldn’t argue, Brian didn’t say anything for another block. “I couldn’t turn him in, so I gave him the means to get away--as far away and lost as possible.”

Startled, Rome glanced to his former friend, again. After he’d done nothing for Rome when he’d been busted, that would have been another twist to the knife in his back. Only the truth was, Rome had half been pulling those heists that put him in lock-up in an effort to get O'Conner’s attention. Pissed, Rome had been sloppy, and that led to his arrest. Somehow, he thought O'Conner would be the cop to make the bust, get lured back into the lifestyle, and give up being The Man. It hadn’t even occurred to Rome that O'Conner might be on another call or that as a rookie, he’d have no sway. So, now he’d gone and got Rome’s record wiped clean, when he had the means. Course, it could have got him killed, too, but O'Conner sure had busted his ass to take care of his boy in the long run, even after the way Rome had treated him, which sure didn’t obligate him to do shit. Except the part about driving onto Verone’s boat—that had been stupid-ass crazy. Damn heroic, though. Would he have done that shit if he knew he was knocked up?

Still, there wasn’t one damn thing about the present situation that Rome liked. “How long you known about it?”

“I just figured it out when we left Miami.”

“That shit you tol’ me about yo’ titties and hormones, an’ stuff. You must a known then.”

“I didn’t think that was why, really. I didn’t believe it. Why should I believe it?” O'Conner was starting to sound really stressed. “Man, you know I don’t know nothin’ about that kinda thing!”

Sure as hell, he wouldn’t have driven onto Verone’s boat if he’d known. “Then you really didn’t know, when we started sleepin’ together again.”

“No, I didn’t!”

The only thing O'Conner had done right was to keep his mouth shut about it. It was too bad he hadn’t gone on keeping his mouth shut about it, except it was only gonna get more obvious. He should have just quietly taken care of the problem on his own. Rome would have been completely complacent never knowing a thing about it.

Once he’d pulled into a parking space at the hotel, Brian found his voice again. “Look, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to hurt you—no way. You think I would have gone back to Barstow to get you or risk my life for you if you didn’t mean a hell of a lot to me?”

Brian released his seatbelt and unlocked the doors. “I’ll get the rest of your money from the trunk and leave it at the front desk for you before I go. I’m really sorry you had to find out anything about it.” Just like only O'Conner could do, he seemed to be reading Rome’s mind. “Forget about it. Hang out here and enjoy New Orleans long as you want.” Leaning across the console, he kissed Rome’s cheek. “Look, man. Just know, if you ever need someone to have your back again, I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” He slid out of the car.

“Damn it, Brian!” Rome threw open his door. Storming to the trunk, he grabbed O'Conner’s arm. “I oughta kick the shit outta you, right now. Don’ think there’s much stoppin’ me. So, lus’ just go up to the room and figa’ this shit out befo’ any of us go any furtha’.”

~~~

On the way upstairs, Rome didn’t stop seething. He had a lot of things he wanted to throw at O'Conner, but it would probably be best to stick to the most important stuff, make a decision, then leave it alone. Already, that once endearing swagger of his was pissing the hell out of Rome. He had to avert his eyes in attempt not to see it.

Up in their room, Rome opened the blinds, then the sliding glass doors for some air, even if it was warm and muggy. This was gonna be fucked. “Call room service,” he told O'Conner. “Tell ‘em to send up a bottle of they bes’ bourbon.”

When he heard Brian do as instructed, Rome added more. “Tell ‘em to send two glasses along wit’ that; yo’ gonna need it, too.”

Apparently ignoring Rome, Brian asked for only one glass and a bucket of ice.

Further annoyed, Rome intervened, snatching the receiver. “Make that two glasses and a bucket a ice.” Then he hung up and returned to the view of the city, unable to look at O'Conner. “You plannin’ on keepin’ it, ain't you?” He didn’t have to say anything; Rome could feel his piercing, agonized look. “How long it been?”

No answer.

Rome snapped. “How long the fuck it been!”

“…It was May when I left LA.”

“You dumb, but you ain't that dumb.” In truth, it was never like O'Conner to be this dumb. Ignorant when they were kids, but never dumb. “You must a suspected.”

“It wasn’t ‘til recently that I even had a chance to count. I told you how nonstop it’s been. Next thing I know it’s--it’s…” Brian frowned. “What the hell month is it, anyhow?”

“August. Prob’bly mo’ like you didn’t wanna count…” Rome paced out to the balcony to sit at the patio table; if he didn’t, he’d go knock Brian across the room.

Thankfully, O'Conner didn’t follow him out, leaving Rome alone to think. With the sliding door open, he listened for room service. It took a while, during which time Rome didn’t know what the fuck Brian was doing. Nor did Rome care. Damn, he wanted to get drunk and fast. What the hell was taking room service so long? He’d make sure he’d tip accordingly.

Just as something occurred to Rome, he started to run back in to confront O'Conner. Then came the knock on the door. Inside the room, Brian nowhere in sight, but the bathroom door was open, and the sink faucet could be heard running.

At the table in the room, Pearce poured the two drinks over a couple of ice cubes, each. “Brian!” he called. “Brian, get out he’!”

There was no response, so he went to the glass door, shut it against the humid air, then carried both drinks to the bathroom. There, he found Brian leaning over the sink, washing his face. “You suddenly go deaf? He’.” Rome set the glass down hard on the dark, soapstone counter.

The curls around his face dripping wet, O'Conner partially straightened and reached for a towel.

While Rome took a stiff drink, Brian dried his face, wordlessly.

“You done a test?” Rome raised an eyebrow at Brian.

It took him a moment, as he went about drying. Then finally, “No.”

“Then how do you know anything fo’ sho’?”

Brian kept his gaze averted. “Haven’t had a period since then, I told you.”

“If you ain’t even had a test, then why you even sayin’ you is’? What if you ain't? What if i’ss som'm else? That stuff you said about hormones an’ all; any a that true o’ did you just make it up?”

Hanging the towel up, Brian left the glass, and headed back into the room.

“I know you know dis shit. You took some medical courses in college.”

“Yeah, but that was just basic First Aid,” Brian allowed from the bedroom. “I ain’t no doctor.” Then added. “Yeah, it’s possible or I wouldn’t have said it.”

“Then maybe you ain't.” Rome took another bitter swallow from his glass, then fled after O'Conner. “I say we go right now and buy one a them tests and find out.”

At the closet, Brian had picked up his overnight. This time he faced Rome. “Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.”

“I don’t want to do that right now. I just washed off my makeup. I don’t want to go to the store.”

“But, I wanna know. This might got nothin’ to do with no baby. O’ if it does,” which would be the only acceptable alternative, “maybe i’ss mine. We been together plenny a times. You know how much that would mean to me.”

Tiredly, O'Conner lowered the overnight case to the dresser and rubbed his eyebrow with a thumbnail. “It guess it is possible there’s some other reason my periods stopped. I’ve been real stressed out since I left L.A. Real stressed. You know how it’s been. And now this crap with Verone--well, they say stress can interfere with periods.”

“So, lus’ jus’ go buy one a them tests and find out.”

“Okay,” Brian sighed. “I’ll go to the drug store and buy one. You stay--”

“Hell no. I wanna make sho’ you get the damn thing.”

~~~

Rome insisted on driving, so they took the Challenger.

Uncomfortable, Brian slunk down in the passenger bucket seat, hidden behind his dark glasses. He hadn’t put on any more makeup and didn’t want to. “Man…You sure you wanna do this?”

“Yeah, I’m sho’,” Rome said pointedly, then whipped out of the parking space jarring enough to nearly induce whiplash.

“Well, I’m not.”

“I’ss a little late for that, ain' it?”

Sitting up a little straighter, Brian surveyed the street around them. He hadn’t worn tight clothes in years, and the new pants were digging into his lower abdomen and binding his crotch. “It can wait. Fuck it, let’s go out and party tonight, like you wanted. It’ll be fun. First night in NoLa. I can go pick up a test tomorrow.”

“I wanna know now.”

Although Rome was absolutely right about buying the test, that stress Brian had been talking about was only growing worse by the second. His symptoms were still ambiguous and indistinct, and as Rome had pointed out, there could be other reasons for them. The problem was, it felt a lot like it had the first time. It had taken a long time for Brian to realize he was even having any symptoms back then, precisely because they were so vague and he had no experience to draw from. One thing was certain. He never would have imagined that the next time it happened, the circumstances--though completely different—could possibly be just as weird and fucked up as they were the first time. And they were. “Do you really want to get into this right now?”

“If it was up to me you know I’d just as soon as neva’ have to get into this about you an somebody else, but you didn’ gimme no goddamn choice, did you?”

Deciding to continue to play it low-key, Brian slid down in his seat again. That felt more comfortable, anyways.

~~~

Back at the hotel, Rome hovered in the bathroom with his drink. When Brian fumbled with the package, Rome quickly lost patience and took over. 

At last, Brian couldn’t take the anxiety any more, and picked up the glass of bourbon Pearce had left for him. He took a good swallow. It was sickening, pungent, and tasted so vile it almost came back up. He briefly considered smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves, but then thought better. The last few times he’d tried lighting up, the cigarettes seemed to taste bad, so he finally threw the pack out, figuring it must have gotten tainted. That had been a ways back, when he was fleeing L.A., racing practically every night. Until then, he hadn’t even thought about buying another pack. Pregnant or not, he needed the alcohol badly, so he took another drink. Once again, he started to gag.

“What wrong wit’ chyou!” Pearce snarled, glancing up as he ripped the plastic off the box, at last.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Brian lied. He set the glass down on the counter to leave it, and started for the bedroom to change into something more loose-fitting and lightweight.

“Whe’ you goin’? I got it.” There was the sound of more plastic tearing and crumpling. 

“Can I change first?”

“Get yo’ ass back in he’ an’ pee on dis thing, a’ready!”

While the minutes counted down on Pearce’s watch, Brian returned to the bedroom to tiredly change, then resume repacking. He took off his sneakers and threw his pants on the neatly-made bed. Then he stepped into a pair of elastic-waistband cotton shorts. That felt so much better.

The maid had cleaned the room when they’d gone out earlier, which was going to make packing relatively simple. He’d just started to fold his clothes together from the closet to cram them into his bag when he heard Pearce again. He’d stepped into the bedroom door, from the proximity of his voice. 

“It says you pregnant.”

Even though it felt like the floor dropped out just then, Brian hoped that if he didn’t move, he wouldn’t fall. He shut his eyes to block out some of his senses from the overload.

Rome’s voice went on, strangely quiet. “Ain’ no chance that baby’s mine, is they?”

No periods since Brian had last been with Toretto and no one else until Rome, later on. How much later on, wasn’t certain. But, that didn’t matter. Did it? Maybe Brian wasn’t remembering right. Going through the motions of dealing with monthly periods had become second nature. One was just like another. They only lasted a two or three days. Was it possible he’d been so busy with so many worse things to deal with that he just didn’t think about it? Carefully, Brian took a seat at the edge of the bed or he’d lose his balance, which was getting worse. The taste of the bourbon in his mouth was becoming nauseating and along with that, he was starting to feel icy cold, despite the New Orleans humidity. “I don’t know…Maybe…maybe I miscounted…” He tried to recount his last period, and all he could remember was arguing with Toretto about scaling walls and fences. Otherwise, Brian kept drawing blanks. It made sense why he remembered that.

Another memory hit him then, but it was from long ago. He recalled Pearce making fun of him for suddenly becoming forgetful, the first time. That chilling wave of déjà vu wasn’t reassuring.

Suddenly, Rome was on the carpet, on his knees, in front of him. “You mean, it could be?”

“I don’t know, man.” The nausea was gone and the floor was steady, at least, so Brian got up to continue packing and not look at Rome. “I think I’d better just go.”

“Go? Go?” Rome hastened up and caught Brian’s arm. “You think I’d let you go anywhe’ if you carryin’ my baby? Not afta’ what we been through.”

“Don’t do this, man!” Brian yanked his arm free. “You don’t know that. Don’t set yourself up for that kind of disappointment.” He went to the dresser to pack his overnight.

“There wouldn’t be any worse disappointment than not bein’ theh’ when my baby born. I lost one a’ready; I ain’t losin’ anotha’.”

Slowing, Brian looked over his shoulder toward Rome. “Yeah, but what if it ain’t yours? Then what? You gonna pack up and leave then? I might as well leave now so I don’t have to go through all that when I’ve got a baby to look after.”

Joining Brian at the dresser, Rome leaned next to him. In spite of everything, Rome’s aftershave smelled good. Familiar. He put a strong hand on Brian’s halting his packing. “What you said about it bein’ all ove’ and done wit’ this guy…That fo’ real?”

Unwillingly, Brian nodded. “Yeah. It’s over, man.”

“How’m I gonna know that fo’ shu’?”

“Look, I’m sure he’s left the country and you can bet he’s getting as lost anybody possibly can. If there’s anything this guy knows, it’s how to stay off the radar. ” He wouldn’t look at Rome. “With the charges they got on him, there’s no way he’s about to ever come back. And even if there’s any chance he might, I’m the last person in the world he’d ever want to see again. Not after the shit I had to pull on him.”

Stepping closer, Rome drew Brian to him, mouth grazing his jaw. “That stuff you said about havin’ my back…Any time, any whe’…That fo’ real, too?”

“Yeah.” Brian nodded. “Always.”

“You finally gonna give me my baby.” Rome crushed Brian close for a kiss.

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to hear from you. Please visit my writing blog at: http://exlibrisxscribe.tumblr.com/


End file.
